---

I shed tears in the stormy desert.

Heaven’s tears soaked the barren land, yet life did not sprout.

The living stood on the parched ground, gazing up at the sky.

The dead in the abyss sang a mournful melody.

—

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

—

The involuntary threat of life is something everyone experiences at least once in their lives.

Even if life is a miserable existence stained with contempt and despair, the instinct to long for life is inherent in all living things. Those standing on the precipice of death finally realize the value of life.

Even if it’s just a shabby extension of life gained through a moment’s delay.

Thus, when the one presiding over death appeared, it was only natural that a simmering rage arose from deep underground.

“Those wicked and cunning things are once again stepping in with their filthy feet.”

Leather boots tread upon the earth.

Birth and death are part of a cycle. If there is one who presides over birth, then it is only fitting that the same should hold true for death.

Nathaniel looked down into the abyss.

What came into view were writhing masses of flesh. Creatures with bent and hardened claws digging into the stone, their meager limbs bustling as they scrambled through the gaps.

Among countless monsters climbing the walls, an angel standing at the edge spread out their two hands.

Like valley water flowing over rocks, twin swords descended from the sleeves into the grip.

Two daggers twirled around their pivot. The sharp silver blades scattered the thick darkness.

The angel, overseeing the order, signaled the start of battle with a dagger.

– Slash!

As Nathaniel extended his arm, one of the daggers sliced through the air.

The keen blade penetrated swiftly into the top of a head, and the grotesque mass of flesh plummeted, pushing away other masses.

Monsters colliding with the deceased creature were pushed into the air, beginning to fall into the deep abyss.

As the struggling creatures looked up, several daggers suddenly embedded themselves into their faces, sending them back into the abyss once more.

“Hmph.”

Nathaniel snorted as he watched the scene unfold.

As if to throw a pebble by the roadside, the angel flicked the daggers. Just then, a familiar heavy metallic sound began to echo, prompting him to pause and subtly raise his head.

“What is it, Ramiel?”

Nathaniel’s gaze landed on the rough armor. Ramiel, the knight in plate armor, approached him to speak.

“The demons’ minions have been released.”

“Yes, they have. Thanks to whom, I wonder?”

Ramiel’s gaze shifted towards Nathaniel.

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“Then whose responsibility could it be?”

Nathaniel continued without avoiding the gaze directed at him, his mouth twisted but words coming forth clearly.

“How many times must I tell you that the pillars supporting the ceiling are not merely structural? Have you truly forgotten how the seal was created?”

“Surely you would know better than I. The planning and completion of the seal in the stone chamber was none other than yours, Nathaniel.”

“I’ve said it countless times; if the pillars collapse, the sealing runes on the ceiling will fail. Have you forgotten that due to being in slumber for 800 years?”

Why did you act foolishly and cause the seal to break? Nathaniel was asking that.

In response, Ramiel shrugged.

“Shouldn’t you have made it better? If you had made it sturdy enough to last a thousand years, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“Your ignorance is truly astounding. You continue to amaze me every time. How did you become a raging inferno with that head of yours?”

“That too, you know well enough, don’t you? It’s because I lost to you.”

“…You little.”

– Kyeeeek!

A scream sharp enough to pierce the ears interrupted their conversation. From somewhere, a hellish monster crawled up the wall, its grotesque mouth wide open.

As dark, sticky liquid dripped down like threads, a colossal greatsword intersected and crushed its fangs.

Ramiel, having shoved the greatsword into the monster’s mouth, twisted the hilt. The blade sliced through the right side of its face, and before the unclean gore could soak the greatsword, its head fell off.

With one clean strike, Ramiel decapitated the creature, and Nathaniel, who had something more to say, held back his annoyance.

“We can argue later. Let’s deal with those first, Ramiel.”

“Do as you please, Nathaniel.”

Ramiel and Nathaniel turned back-to-back.

Then, shortly after, the dance of the greatsword and twin daggers began to unfold in the darkness.

—

A gloomy roar echoed through the cavern.

It sounded like the wails of vengeful spirits or screams from hell.

The shivers racing down their spines became more pronounced with each near approach of the voice.

Even while standing still, one could feel the body trembling and their stomach twisting, sometimes feeling the impulse to cover their ears.

The wails from the depths below were grotesquely bizarre.

“Huff.”

As the gauntlet traced a half-circle behind the helm, a silver strike cleaved the monster in two.

It was a swordplay so gripping it was hard to follow with the eyes. Ramiel, having sliced a creature in half at the waist, swung the greatsword to deal with the monsters around.

A weapon that would intimidate even the most seasoned warriors was wielded by the knight as if it were part of his own body. Diagonally, from top to bottom, from left to right. The greatsword, like a passionate dance to an exhilarating rhythm, slashed through the hellish minions, spraying ichor.

Crack. A hellhound’s chest was pierced by the greatsword.

It looked like a dog, so it was a dog, and coming from hell, it was called a hellhound, a minion of demons.

The black blood flowing instead of crimson proved its cursed existence.

Ramiel drove the greatsword into the minion’s chest and twisted the hilt.

Leaving behind the first heart, the greatsword sliced through the wrinkled skin and battered the second heart.

– Kiaaaack!

The moment the second heart was cleaved, the monster began to ignite like a rag soaked in oil.

“Perhaps because it was just released from the seal, it seems weaker than I remember.”

Without even turning back, Ramiel offered a warning.

“However, there’s a reason they’re called the minions of hell. Just because they’re weak doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Even the weakest creature from hell is far stronger than you earthly beings. Saints would be torn to shreds by them without a second thought.”

Swish. Six rounds of ammunition poured out onto the soft palm.

“Such basic information—”

Veronica gingerly grasped the bullets to prevent them from spilling, and in the blink of an eye, she completed reloading and closed the cylinder.

“I know from experience!”

With the sacred sigils engraved on the barrel lifted high, she, fully aligned, pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang! The head of the hellhound leaping into the air vanished without any premonition. Only the smoke rising from the muzzle and the spinning cylinder of the revolver hinted at the cause.

The body without its head was merely a grotesque mass of flesh.

Veronica sidestepped slightly to avoid the corpse plummeting due to the force of gravity. The fallen flesh quickly charred black. Annoyingly, she stomped on it, turning it into ash and dust as she tilted her revolver.

Three bullets were fired in quick succession, immediately sending the hellhounds crawling up the wall back to their homeland.

Applause erupted for the saint who dispatched four hellhounds in the blink of an eye from Akande.

“Skill. Very outstanding. Talent. Envy.”

“You fight too, you bastard!”

As I shouted, Akande, having received a kick to his rear, began to smile, revealing his teeth.

And then he clenched his fists and declared, “I’ll watch!”

Akande swung his raised fist. The moment his fist collided with the body of the charging hellhound, the tattoo running from his shoulder to his knuckles began to shine.

A blinding flash exploded, and the shockwave shook the air.

With his fist crushing the ribs and sinking into the chest, chunks of dark flesh burst forth in every direction. Akande, having shattered the creature’s bones, began to throw punches and kicks against the hellhounds charging in after him.

“Hahaha!”

Akande’s appearance, effortlessly obliterating the vile monsters, resembled a madman escaped from a ward. Considering that he was actually running around without a shirt, perhaps he really was insane.

While ash and dust danced wildly in the air, Ramiel continued to cleave through several monsters with his greatsword.

As if filleting fish delivered directly from the mountains, the heavy blade sliced through flesh and bone. As the monster’s body turned to ash and dust, the black ichor that had drenched the massive blade also fell away like flying embers.

As he stared at the dissipating hellhound, the angel changed grip on the hilt of the greatsword.

Ramiel adjusted the sword so that his right hand, holding the base, faced upward, and the massive blade once again mercilessly tore through the minions of hell.

And beside him stood another angel.

Nathaniel, wielding his dagger.

“Do not come up.”

As Nathaniel twisted his body, daggers flew out from within his cloak, scattered in all directions. The simultaneously launched daggers pierced the heads of the monsters.

As the creatures crawling up the walls fell back down into the depths, the sight of streams of flesh tumbling down was truly a spectacle.

As soon as the seal was broken, monsters poured up from the underground. To put it more accurately, they poured up.

The released hellish monsters began to climb the walls using their claws and limbs, and we started to prevent them from ascending.

From a distance, it was Veronica, Nathaniel, and me.

From close quarters, Akande and Ramiel.

Bullets and daggers shot down the ascending monsters, and when the creatures that escaped the hail reached the bridge, the greatsword and fists crushed them indiscriminately. We were dealing with them in our own ways, smashing skulls and cutting bodies apart.

But now it seemed we were nearing our limits.

“We’re overheating!”

The rifle’s barrel glowed red. An unmistakable sign of overheating.

The operating principle of a modern firearm is simple. When triggered, the projectile strikes the back of the cartridge, igniting the propellant via the primer, launching the slug.

The high-temperature, high-pressure gas generated at this moment causes an abrupt rise in the barrel’s temperature. In typical shooting circumstances, the chances of overheating are slim, but in such desperate combat, the story changes.

Firing dozens or hundreds of rounds in quick succession drastically increases the temperature.

Excessive heat accelerates wear and erosion on the barrel, shortening its lifespan. It also reduces the speed of the projectile, destabilizing both the trajectory and velocity. The problem with such high temperatures is that they can lead to functional failures and, in severe cases, result in burns and breakage.

“Damn it.”

Sure enough, upon touching the barrel cover, a searing heat was felt. Had I forgotten my gloves, it could have burned my palm.

Moreover, proper reloading was not even happening. After removing the magazine and pulling the loading handle, the ammunition, firmly stuck between the hammer and the chamber, would not budge.

I quickly discarded the rifle and pulled out my pistol, shouting.

“I can’t use the rifle anymore! Veronica, are you okay over there!”

Veronica, who was far away, answered while pressing her foot against the demon’s head and pulling the revolver close.

“No!”

For Veronica, whose focus was on her guns, the number of enemies was hardly a concern. The scarcity of ammo for her revolver and dual-barreled shotgun had never posed a problem until now. Just as Akande said, she was quite skilled with firearms, to the degree that even demons acknowledged her prowess.

However, no matter how skilled a marksman one might be, quantity could not be defied.

The revolver, which had more than earned its keep against dozens of monsters, had finally reached the end of its lifespan. Out of bullets, it clattered its empty cylinder, pleading for food from its unfortunate owner.

I shot a few of the monsters aiming at Veronica with my pistol and shouted.

“Load the bullets!”

“You’ll get killed if you try to load it now! Who has the time to do that one by one!”

“Then what should we do?”

“Ah— I don’t know!”

Veronica swung her revolver like a hammer.

As the grip struck the fallen monster in the stomach, it shrieked and struggled to rise. Quick as lightning, she aimed a punishing blow at the pained creature’s face, which was wide open in agony.

“The Holy Spirit won’t come even when summoned! Ugh, did something happen when it was forcibly dismissed earlier?”

She glanced around as she continued to pummel the head of the monster, which was writhing with its legs cut off, and gasped in horror.

“It’s—it’s coming from all directions!”

The only light source, a lamp, illuminated the darkness, but from the edges where the light did not reach, monsters were swarming toward us.

Like specters seeking the warmth of the living, they charged with their jaws agape.

“Kwaaaa-!!”

Hearing her scream, Akande leaped into action.

He landed with a thud right in the middle of the monsters, swinging his fists and legs to crush skulls.

Thwack! A punch hit a jaw, sending it spinning, while a kick sunk into a gut, causing the bones to protrude against the skin.

As if his whole body were a weapon, Akande unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches. His wild fury was that of a blood-soaked killer, and indeed, he was covered in blood.

“Get back!”

Seeing this, Ramiel pushed Akande our way, seizing the position. “Push” wasn’t quite right; it felt more like he was throwing him.

The knight, having shielded Akande, swung his greatsword at the advancing monsters.

As the massive blade traced a crescent arc, chunks of flesh and thick black fluid sprayed everywhere, while shards shot up like a curtain, making their way through the melee.

“That eagerness to rush into enemy lines hasn’t changed, Ramiel.”

“Nathaniel!”

Covered in bloody remnants and black goo, Ramiel turned to Nathaniel.

In a voice that carried a hint of warmth, he asked, “Are you watching my back?”

“No.”

The curt response caused the knight’s shoulder to droop. For some reason, he appeared visibly disappointed.

Turning his gaze to Ramiel, Nathaniel stabbed a monster in the neck with his dagger and kicked it away.

“You should be watching my back. Protect the humans you brought. I’ll handle my business.”

“What are you going to do?”

Veronica raised an eyebrow and looked at Nathaniel, but the angel simply held his silence, offering no answer to her question.

Instead, he acted.

“Support me.”

At Nathaniel’s terse command, Ramiel reacted. He plunged his greatsword into the ground and knelt without a word. Nathaniel rushed over to him, stepping on his back, and in the blink of an eye, launched himself into the air.

The angel soared at least dozens of meters high before beginning to descend.

His body curled as if rolling towards the ground.

Falling under gravity’s pull, Nathaniel drew out daggers and hurled them at the monsters. It was as if he was spraying dozens of daggers like a machine gun.

In that moment, as silver flashes gleamed amid the darkness, the cloak that fluttered around his spinning form twisted in an odd direction.

Like cleaning a crystal ball with soft cloth, the cloak swept through the air, sending black smoke swirling to create multiple circles.

“Decay is part of the cycle.”

The angel spoke in whispers, presiding over the cycle.

“No one can escape.”

As the cloak brushed away the edges of the circles, it bid a gentle farewell.

While the undulating black smoke congregated, each wisp gathered towards a single center, forming large and small spheres.

Like the beating of a heart, like the hammering of a blacksmith, the spheres began to pulse at uniform intervals.

When that pulsing reached its peak—

-BANG.

The spheres exploded simultaneously, spraying black smoke everywhere.

The erupted smoke engulfed the monsters, crashing down upon them like a tidal wave over the sand, like a storm sweeping through the plains.

The smoke ruthlessly swept away the hell’s minions, causing the hellhounds to be overwhelmed and washed away like animals caught in a disaster.

Their anguished outcries faded into the distance.

It was a signal that what had risen from hell was returning to its original place.

Nevertheless, quite a few monsters remained.

Seeing this, Veronica frowned in disdain.

“Wow… What the hell was lurking underground?”

Accusatory glances demanding an explanation were shot at the angel, but Ramiel subtly turned his head to avoid them.

“I might have oversealed a bit.”

“……”

“Still, it’s a good thing it worked out well, isn’t it?”

His blatant attempt to brush off the situation caused the intensity of their gazes to sharpen.

The knight then boldly retorted.

“The design for the seal was Nathaniel’s doing.”

“…Ah, is that the issue of design and execution?”

The helm bobbed up and down, suggesting to take it up with the construction company rather than him.

Veronica seemed genuinely furious at that confident demeanor. Gripping the revolver like a hammer, she began to swing it around.

“Hey! Is that even something you can say right now? You want to die?!”

“Hang in there! Hang in there….”

“Don’t move! You, you better not mess with me, or you’ll regret it! Get over here, and let me smash your head!”

I desperately tried to restrain the frenzied Veronica. Akande snorted, scratching his head, looking at us with a clueless gaze.

Just when the angel, casually shifting blame, was on the verge of being smashed by the saint, Nathaniel, who had descended to the ground, began scolding Ramiel with a look of despair.

“That ridiculous mouth of yours hasn’t changed at all. When do you plan on stopping those jokes that are hardly amusing?”

“Isn’t it fun?”

“……”

“Or should I make you drink?”

The angel shook his head slowly and then suddenly turned away, clearly indicating that he couldn’t bear to look at him.

“How many minions are left?”

“About 60? Doesn’t seem like it would reach 100.”

“Tsk.”

Nathaniel clicked his tongue lightly.

“It’s a pity; in the past, it would have been a total wipeout.”

Ramiel placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, breaking the heavy mood with an uplifting remark.

“When you grow old, even doing business in the restroom becomes a struggle.”

“Please be quiet before I remove your tongue.”

“Hah!”

A hearty laugh erupted from Ramiel, who seemed to find something amusing.

No one else laughed. It was a strange joke that didn’t hold any amusement.

Everyone glared at Ramiel, who had ruined the mood with a casual remark, except for Nathaniel.

Ignoring the glare, he sheathed his greatsword and prepared to deal with the remaining minions.

The greatsword melted into the air, forming a hammer.

Grasping its handle, he pulled it down and began to count the legs of the monsters.

“It will be tight to reestablish the seal. First, I’ll take down five legs and finally the pillar. That way, I can prevent them from rising to the surface.”

Ramiel pointed to us three in turn.

“You three should hurry to the surface. I will stay here with Nathaniel and come up before it’s too late.”

“No need for that.”

“…Huh?”

Nathaniel lifted his head.

The angel’s gaze turned upwards, to the tall, dark ceiling.

“Someone is coming.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than—

-WHOOSH!!

Flames surged forth.

The wave of fire roared through the walls, swiftly reaching the underground.

The monsters, straining with all their might to push their way up, were engulfed by the flames and incinerated completely, just missing us, who were closer to the pillar.

“Ah.”

I finally felt relieved upon seeing the red blaze.

As sparks danced in the air, someone appeared from the flames.

“Dochaak!”

Emerging from the fire, Camila leaped forward while shouting.

Spotting us right away on the magically illuminated path, she beamed at us.

“Looks like you made it just in time!”

“Hero? And my sister?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Francesca appeared from the flames, waving at Veronica, who was holding Camila’s outstretched hand.

Landing softly on the ground, the two surveyed the area. Thanks to the falling monsters lighting up the darkness, the air was filled with the acrid smell of burning flesh.

Without a word, Francesca drew her rune blade. Threads of blue magic danced under her command, each ending with a steel seal.

With a whoosh! The threads spread out wide, embedding seals in the joints of the bridge and walls.

Identifying the structure of the bridge and its weak points, the alchemist pulled a similar seal from her robe and struck it down like a hammer. The seals previously scattered resonated and dived deeper into the structure.

Of course, the bridge began to crumble.

The structure quaked violently, singing dissonantly. Francesca, having retrieved her tools, turned to everyone.

“It’ll collapse soon. Let’s evacuate.”

Hero?

Leave it to me.

From Camila’s pocket, a small cubic object floated up. A cube.

As if solving a puzzle, it began to spin on its own. The speed picked up, and the cube emitted an even stronger light.

And when the cube was fully charged—

The foot that had been on the crumbling bridge lifted into the air.

Camila smiled.

“Let’s go! Don’t keep us waiting up there!”

The seven figures began to rise towards the sky.

It was the moment we would bid farewell to the long journey through the underground ruins.

 

---